Things Forgotten
by Kimu Yukiko
Summary: After Ichigo loses his spiritual powers and is unable to see Rukia anymore, he falls into a state of depression. Unable to see him suffer, Rukia visits him one last time... to erase any memory he had of her. This is a story of what we forget, and how we remember.


**Chapter One: An Visitor in the Night**

"I'm home," Ichigo announced as he stepped through the front door, dusting his feet on the doormat. He wore his permanent scowl and bored attitude, fatigued from the day's toiling drudgery otherwise known as education.

"Welcome home, Brother!" Yuzu quipped with her usual refreshing over-exuberance, appearing in the hallway in a pink checkered apron and wielding a messy egg beater in one hand. She had long given up on telling her brother he'd have a ton of wrinkles if he kept up with that "_I'm angry. Don't disturb me_," scowl of his. Actually, come to think of it, she had stopped bothering him about a lot of things. She didn't even scold him when he stopped finishing his meals, but instead made the portions smaller to suit his needs. It was obvious he didn't have the same ravenous appetite as before, quite different from the time when he would take an extra portion up to his bedroom for a little midnight stuffing. If he had done this a year ago, she would have made sure he didn't have anything to eat at the next meal so that he could repent his actions. However, this time she had let him be, instead inwardly scolding herself for not being more considerate to her emotionally-unstable elder brother.

Perhaps it had been done out of pity; he looked like he might deflate if you poked him. This wasn't the brother she knew; and she missed the old caring elder brother she used to have dearly. Not _this one_, caught up in self-pity and despair. Still, she tried to understand his current predicament. After all, he had never been the same since _she_ left. Mere mention of her name was forbidden in the household, it was an unspoken rule. She knew she missed her adopted elder sister quite a bit, even if they were family for only a short while.

"How'd you like some cake? It's not, well… I didn't make it like I did last time." Yuzu trailed off at the end, remembering how forlorn her brother had looked when she baked a strawberry _Chappy_ cake, a personal invention which was humorous at one point of time in their lives not so long ago. It had been met with much delight and squeals from a _certain individual_, the same one who was the cause of her brother's mopey behavior.

She was worried about him, as the rest of his family was, although they didn't show it. They exchanged knowing glances from time to time, silently communicating the words they could not say. Her brother had been acting strange since Rukia had left a year ago. Sure enough, he went through his usual daily routines, but he didn't make eye-contact during conversations, his fixed scowl standing out more than ever. He didn't even bother to fight with his dad anymore, something it was clear he used to enjoy although he showed nothing but annoyance at his dad's undying persistence. He tried to act naturally, laughing or reacting appropriately to any comment or joke, but anyone close enough to him could tell he was putting on a front. At the dinner table he would sit in his morose and gloomy corner, not bothering to join in the cheerful conversation and crude jokes passed across the table by his family. He would answer if you directly addressed him, but most of the time you could only elicit an unenthusiastic monosyllabic response.

"Thanks, Yuzu, but I'm not hungry. I'm going to study in my room until dinner." He ruffled her hair and pulled a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was a daily thing Yuzu was forced to witness; the impenetrable mask he decided to wear. Yuzu's eyes followed her brother's back as he trudged upstairs. How could she not be worried? If her brother had to put up a front in his own home, then the least she could do was offer him some time to himself. She sighed and turned back to the kitchen. At least her father and Karin would willingly stuff themselves silly. Still, she was a kind girl with a big heart, and was never one to hold anything against anyone, much less her elder brother.

Ichigo slumped down on his bed, sighing and staring at the white ceiling of his bedroom. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath which he let out slowly. _When would his gloomy melodrama come to an end?_ He knew he was affecting those around him, and yet he could do nothing to stop his confused emotions. He knew his friends were worried about him, since they could obviously see through his false façade, but what could he do? He tried his best not to let the tumult inside of him show up on the outside. He felt stupid and angry at himself. He missed having power. He missed being able to protect the friends he loved. And most of all, he missed her.

He had forbidden himself from even thinking of her, and it wasn't so hard. He preoccupied himself with schoolwork, his annoying but lovable classmates, his everyday chores. It wasn't like the world had stopped moving to give him time to recover from the cruel reality he had been deserted in.

Still, every now and then, her face would resurface in his mind and it pained him to remember. If she was here, she would know just how to cheer him up. His only solace at this point was the fact that he would one day return to Soul Society, one way or another, even if it took exactly a lifetime.

The past year with her had been like a fast-paced whirlwind of a dream. It was a rocky journey, but he had enjoyed every moment of it. When they said their farewells, he did it with the presumptuous knowledge that he would see her again soon. He never in the least expected how slowly the days would drag on by, or how much the precious memories and time he spent with her now tortured him endlessly. If there was anything in the world he could not stand, it was losing her, and now, it was a nightmare come true. _I'm such an idiot._

She was the one person who could make the rain go away. She was the only one who could cheer him up when he was down, give him purpose and kick resolution into his thick head. He had never realized how much he needed her in his life, and now that she was gone, the gaping hole left in her absence made him need her more than ever. _How does the world keep spinning without her?_

Thinking about her made his chest hurt. Why was it so hard for her to come back and visit? Come on, not _once_? They were supposed to be friends, for heaven's sake! What pained him most was that he seemed to miss her so much more than she would ever feel or know. She was probably off in Soul Society having a great time, having already moved on with her life. Why did he have to be the only one caught up in the past? He smashed his fist down on his pillow, somewhat angry at her, but more at himself. When had he become so hopeless? He was supposed to be a man with a sense of pride. Where had all the self-righteous rubbish he had spewed not too long ago gone? He couldn't even apply it to himself anymore. The man he was then and the person he is now seemed like two completely different people, and deep down he had to acknowledge that was the case.

There was no reason to get caught up in the past. Life would have continued for him if he never got to know her. If she had not come, he would have continued down his given path in life; grow up, get a job, get married. So why then did he feel like there was gaping hole in his heart?

Losing his powers wasn't supposed to be a bad thing; after all, he was now free to enjoy life as he pleased. No more crap from Soul Society about an imminent apocalypse or hollows trying to murder him or mysterious people coming to find him and disturb his once controlled lifestyle. He was now comfortably ignorant of the spirit world and perfectly oblivious to all its inhabitants. And yet, this was the polar opposite what he wanted. From the time she had shown up and thrown his entire life into a state of mass chaos, he had never once regretted any moment of it. _She changed his world, his destiny, and his very soul._

His heart was breaking from solitude and despair, and he _hated _every minute of it. He needed a kick in the ass, _pronto_. And the only girl who could do it and bring him back to normal, well, couldn't even be seen anymore, and was much less anywhere to be _found_. They were in two separate worlds now, and there was no hope of ever bridging that gap until he regained his powers. His father had taken twenty years, and he got lucky. Ichigo couldn't stand _one_ year, let alone _twenty._

He got off his bed and walked up to his wardrobe and pulled it open. He had kept it the same from the time she had left it: a perfect memory preserved in a small corner of his room. And yet it seemed so… empty; devoid of a wonderful presence that once inhabited its limited space. Of course, no one else could fit in there except for _Shorty_. He smiled slightly as he recalled their playful arguments and insults hurled at each other. He wished he had treasured their time together more. You don't miss something good until it's gone, and now he was bearing the full brunt and weight of it.

Sure enough he often got angry at her, sometimes even unnerved because of her _uncanny ability _to read him so well. It was like one look into his eyes could let her see all the way into his soul. Her words were sometimes harsh and direct, but they meant a lot to him, and to be perfectly honest, he respected her for it tremendously. She had a tomboyish attitude and didn't give a damn about what people thought about her; she didn't take crap from anyone. She could deal a hard punch or kick if needed, and it hurt like _hell_. And yet, if you knew her well enough, you could see the brilliant person she was underneath her cold exterior. She had a huge heart, and extended her care and love to those around her. She had gone through more than a lifetime's worth of shit, and she still kept her head held high. It was a kind of noble demeanor she had about her, not because she was a member of the Kuchiki household, but something that was very much a spark of her own.

She was an exceedingly special woman, and a very special friend. He had always enjoyed her company, and even if he didn't realize it at the time, he had been _happy._ He wished he had something to remind him of her, but there was nothing; not a photograph, not a keychain, only a letter he kept when she said her first goodbye, again putting his life over hers. He touched the blanket neatly folded in the corner of the closet, and gently pressed his nose to it. It smelt like his sister's shampoo, but somehow also very much of her. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

_I miss you, Shorty. _

He smiled. She would give him hell if she heard him calling her that.

That night, Ichigo turned over in his bed restlessly. He was asleep, but his scowl was still there, though not the one he wore in the daytime. This scowl was a saddened one, an almost desperate one, one raw with emotion when there was no mask to conceal it, and it was one witnessed by a figure standing in the shadows of his bedroom. She had seen the scowl many times before, and heard the name uttered as a desperate plea on his lips. She had seen the solitary tear that coursed down his cheek. The figure watched the teenage boy in silence for a while longer, contemplating something carefully and hesitantly, as if trying to come to a decision. The figure reached into the recesses of her robe and drew something small out, holding it gingerly in the palm of her hand. It moved slowly closer to the bed where the boy with furrowed brows lay and stood there for a while, looking at the boy. With a trembling hand, she reached her hand with the object forward, and with a quivering finger pressed the button. The arm hovered there for a second, and then retreated into the folds of the robe. There was a soft whisper that came and went like the ghost of a voice on the wind. A single tear fell onto the boy's arm.

_"Goodbye, Ichigo. Forgive me." _

The boy's eyes flashed open at the sound. It was so familiar, something he had been desperately searching for and yearning to hear. But what was it? He looked around the room, but there was no one there. He was about to lie back down on his pillow when he noticed he had replaced his navy blue one with a yellow one that smelt like his sister's shampoo. Why had he done that? It seemed like he was about to remember something, but it successfully eluded him. Something was definitely amiss, but he could not put his finger on what it was. He was very worried and disturbed about something, but about _what? _With an uneasy heart, he settled back down to sleep, which he slipped into a lot easier than he used to be able to, but with the nagging feeling that he had lost something very important and very dear to him.

Back in the Spiritual Wave Measurement Lab of the Technology and Research Bureau, something exciting was happening. A group of researchers crowded around a monitor showing a graph indicating a fluctuation in the spirit particle reading, or in other words, a soul leaving for the human world. The group turned around as a door flew open and dispersed immediately to their respective stations.

"Sir, we have an unauthorized opening of the Senkaimon at approximately 2.21 a.m. near the northern sector of Soul Society."

"Do we have an audio and visual of what's happening?"

"No, Sir. Something seems to be blocking our sensors."

"Then get off your lazy asses and start doing something about it! I want to know who has gone to the World of the Living and I want to know it now!"

"Sir, we have visual!"

"Well?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. We have lost sight of the perpetrator."

"I don't care! Give me a full list of all possible suspects who have any possible motive of going to the World of the Living. This is a serious matter and a breach of standard protocol. Give it to me first thing tomorrow morning. Am I understood?"

"Yes, right away, Sir."

Back in the World of the Living, the figure stood on a telephone pole, surveying her surroundings. Her large violet eyes scanned the area below. Not too long ago, she had done the exact same thing though with a completely different purpose. That was, of course, before she had met the boy who changed it all. She laughed a little to herself: she was such a failure as a soul reaper.

She breathed in the night air deeply. She was sure to take in every part of the town, committing it to memory. Everything was quiet, as if the city itself had fallen into a deep slumber. She could see the streets, empty of its lively bustling during the day. She saw the sky, a dark blanket over the sleeping town. It was a place she had come to know so well, and it had become a part of who she was. And yet, it was and would never be a place she could call home. And now that she had accomplished what she had come for, it was time to go back to the place she rightfully belonged.

She scolded herself for having any form of attachment to this place and the people who inhabited it, especially a certain _Strawberry_. The biting wind brought tears to her eyes, though not from the cold, but from a quiet sadness that swept through her. She was a fool for feeling this way, and she knew it. However, this was the only place she felt free, unrestrained, a place where she could simply be herself. But she was not going to regret her decision. This was not the place she belonged, and it was time to return home. She opened the Senkaimon, and with one last look at the place, quietly sealed her heart away.

_Farewell, Ichigo. For the last time._


End file.
